Mageborn The Line of Illeniel

by Michael G. Manning

  That got them moving again. I could only hope we would have enough time to get the wagons out before the rest of the guard arrived. I noticed lights coming from shuttered windows along the street across from the duke’s house. I must have awakened everyone within a half a mile.

  As the last wagon passed through the gate James closed and barred it. I gave him a nod and kept walking; I needed to get inside the store house quickly. The first wagon was already waiting at the large double doors when I got there. Joe stood next to it. “Get back on that damned wagon!” I told him roughly.

  “I need to stay behind to keep the drovers moving,” he argued.

  “Penny and James can do that, I need you to rouse the militia. This could take some time and I’m going to need men I can trust to keep the king’s men on the other side of that wall,” I pointed to the wall encircling the duke’s city estate. Despite Joe’s best efforts the wagons filled the yard with a jumbled confusion of men and horses. It might take us more than an hour to get them all through.

  Joe climbed back onto the wagon and drove it into the store house. There in the middle of the open space was a large circle over thirty feet in diameter. I had originally drawn it in chalk but knowing that wagons would be rolling over it had made me fearful it would be damaged. Using my staff I had carefully gone over each line and symbol with an intense line of fire. The circle was now deeply etched into the stone of the floor.

  Penny and I stood next to the wagon once Joe had positioned it within the circle. If I had made the jump without her she and I would have died before we realized the mistake of separating ourselves by so many miles. I cleared my mind and channeled energy into the circle around us, activating the symbols written there.

  For an unsettling moment I thought I had failed, till I realized the walls of the building around us now were wood instead of stone. We were inside the barn I had prepared in Washbrook. I spoke to Joe quickly, “Drive the wagon out, and then go find Dorian. I want as many of the militia as possible armed and ready when I return. Make sure no one stands in the circle. As each wagon comes through I’ll need you to hustle them out of the barn as quickly as possible.”

  “No problem, I’ll have the boys here by the time you get back,” he reassured me. I sincerely doubted that. It would take him at least fifteen minutes or more rouse the townspeople.

  As soon as the wagon was clear of the circle I concentrated again and we were back in the duke’s store house. James stared at us dubiously from the doorway. “Well it looks like your spell works. I half expected it might kill you,” he said.

  I held up my hands, “I still have all my fingers and toes.” He smiled at that. “I need you to keep the wagons coming in... one at a time. Once I have Joe back you can cross with the next wagon,” I told him.

  “I’m in no hurry,” he replied. “You men… get that wagon moving!” he shouted back at the man on the seat of the wagon outside the doorway to the store house. Once the wagon was in the circle I repeated the process and it was soon moving through the doors of the barn in Washbrook. Joe had not returned yet (as I expected) so we went back to get the next wagon.

  I had moved three more through before I found the militia standing outside barn. Twenty-odd men stood arrayed in heavy leather jerkins and armed with spears and bows. I noted that at some point they had acquired helmets. How my father had found the time for that amidst his other projects I’ll never know. Penny and I brought them back with us when we returned to Albamarl.

  “Spread out along the walls outside. I want at least five men by the gate. Let me know the moment you see anyone approaching,” I told them hastily. “Bring the next wagon in!” I shouted to the driver sitting outside. “James you can come with this load,” I added.

  “No I’ll wait. You may need me to keep them moving till everyone is clear. Take Lady Rose instead,” he replied.

  I didn’t have time to debate matters with him. I took Rose by the arm and guided her over to stand by the wagon. She resisted me but I just put more force into it. “I don’t want to go yet! You need more help here!” she protested.

  I ignored her and as soon as we stood in the circle I took us all back to Washbrook. She looked mildly startled at how rapidly our location had changed. “Keep the wagons moving out as soon as they come through,” I told her.

  “But! Wait...,” she started to argue. I gave her a push and a slap on the derriere. “Oh!” she exclaimed. Penny and I were gone before she could protest further.

  Penny glared at me, “You’re getting mighty free with those hands Mister.”

  “Chalk it up to stress. I’m not thinking as clearly as I should be,” I said. I would probably pay for that one later. Fatigue was beginning to wear on me. I had used more power in the last few hours than I was accustomed to. Fear gnawed at me; if I couldn’t move them all there would be serious consequences.

  We kept the wagons moving steadily over the course of the next half an hour. Despite my exhaustion I had begun to think we would make it without any more ‘incidents’. A yell from the wall outside put an end to that hope. “Soldiers coming! Lots of them!”

  “Shit!” I exclaimed. I was torn, if I went to help ‘discourage’ the king’s men I would have to stop transporting wagons. If I ignored them they might overwhelm my men on the wall. A surge of fear and indecision paralyzed me, and then a hand settled on my shoulder.

  It was James. “Keep moving Mordecai. There are only five wagons left. I’ll make sure they don’t get in,” he assured me. I looked at the man who had become almost a second father to me. He looked old, which seemed strange to me. Still, his confidence made me feel better.

  “I’m counting on you,” I replied and turned back to move the next wagon. I tried to keep my mind blank; I couldn’t afford to think of anything beyond my immediate task.

  Each time we returned I heard things that worried me more. Shouting and voices carried loudly on the cold night air. The duke had tried negotiating briefly; to buy us more time, but it didn’t seem that the king’s soldiers were having any of it. I felt a sense of relief as the last wagon found its place in the circle. One more trip and we would be done. I moved it quickly and Penny and I returned to collect my militiamen.

  It was chaos. We left the store house to find the duke’s yard filled with running men. Several were down already and I wondered who else had just died for me. The king’s soldiers had been unable to force the gate and were now climbing steadily over the short stone walls. The house had not been built with defense in mind; the walls were no more than eight feet in height. Not far away I could see one of my men on the ground... an arrow protruding from the face of his helmet.

  James stood in the middle of the yard screaming orders. If it hadn’t been for him they might have been lost already. “Get back to the store house! Hurry up!” he shouted. Most of the militia was running in my direction already but I could see some limping behind them. The soldiers crossing the wall were already beginning to follow.

  “Lyet ni’Bierek,” I yelled, pointing my staff at the wall behind them. Light and sound assailed my eyes and ears. I repeated the process, pointing at different points along the wall, hoping to slow the men swarming into the duke’s yard. James turned and started for the store house when he stumbled and fell. An arrow was sticking up from his hip. I felt a cry rising from my throat but there were no words in it, just a primal noise full of pain and emotion. More archers were taking aim from various points around the yard.

  One of the men that had come with me turned back to grab the wounded duke, hauling him by main force across the yard. The others had by now reached me and were standing within, waiting for me so we could escape. I ran back to help him drag James back to safety.

  Before I could reach them more arrows struck. I couldn’t see the man’s face because of his helm, but I wondered at his strength. An arrow had lodged in his shoulder yet he pulled the duke along as though he weighed nothing. I grabbed James’s feet and we ran for the doorway. Arrows fell a
round us and I felt several hit my shield. Belatedly I thought to extend it to cover James and his unknown savior. I was so tired I could barely manage even that.

  We got inside and several hands helped drag him into the circle. A dozen soldiers were charging for us and I knew they would reach us before I could activate the circle. Fear and rage pushed reason from my mind and I stepped out to face them. “Pyrren ni’Tragen!” I screamed. A shockwave of fire and death exploded across the yard. The men charging toward us were incinerated and even those further away near the walls were thrown back. Flames took hold and the single tree in the yard became a bonfire. The duke’s house appeared to have caught fire as well.

  My anger had gotten the better of me. I stared at what I had done in shock, despairing at the lives I had just taken. A hand on my shoulder brought me back to myself. “Son we need to go. There’ll be time for regrets later.” It was my father’s voice.

  Surprised, I looked at the man who had dragged the duke across the yard with me. Recognition dawned as I saw the beard beneath his faceguard. He tugged at my arm and we started back inside. He jerked and made an odd cry as we started back toward our escape.

  In horror I saw a second arrow had appeared between his shoulders. I had released the shield around him when I went back outside... I cursed myself for my stupidity. I grabbed him as he fell, struggling to keep him upright as we entered the circle. Fighting exhaustion I took us to Washbrook for the last time.

  Chapter 30

  Our arrival was greeted with cheers by those waiting, but their rejoicing was short lived. James was badly wounded, and my father... my mind went blank as I thought of him. I gently eased him to the ground, shouting at the people around us to move back. I had to lay him on his side because of the arrows protruding from his back.

  Penny gave out a cry of shock as she realized who I was holding, “Oh gods! It’s Royce!”

  My mind was reeling as I tried to think. I struggled to focus, to cast my senses into my father’s failing body, to discover the extent of the damage. Someone started shouting in my ear, trying to get my attention. My temper snapped as my concentration broke, without looking I shouted, “Penny! Get everyone back so I can concentrate!” I took a quick look around, glaring at those watching. “If anyone else interrupts me they won’t live to regret their mistake,” I ground out between clenched teeth.

  Starting again it took even longer to regain my inner balance. I fought to calm my heart and suppress the rage boiling up within. After a long minute I regained my focus and began examining my father’s wounds. What I found dismayed me. One arrow, the first, had lodged in his shoulder blade. I dismissed that one immediately; it was the second arrow that had done the worst damage.

  That shaft had passed between his shoulder blade and spine, the head was lodged beside his heart. It had punctured his left lung and nicked the heart as well. One of the arteries that fed the heart was hemorrhaging badly. The injury was horrifying to my inner sight. I couldn’t repair the lung or the artery until I removed the arrow, and I only had minutes at the very most. He was bleeding to death and drowning in his own blood. It would be a race to see which killed him first.

  “Someone find Marcus! I want him here immediately!” I screamed. Panic had given my voice an edge of hysteria. Then my father began trying to speak. His words were soft and wet with blood making it hard to hear him.

  I leaned closer, putting my ear near his mouth. “Is there any hope?” he said in a quiet wheeze. Tears began running down my face at the words.

  “Maybe... hang in there Dad, it’s not over yet,” I choked before I could say more. His injury was mortal, but the nature of it was something that I could fix... if I could do three things at once. I struggled to think clearly. If it had been my own body it would have been easier. I need absolute focus, I thought to myself. I needed to cast my spirit into him, like I had done with the horse a long year ago. Working from within would be far easier.

  I whispered a few words and cast my mind out, staring into my father’s blue eyes. For a moment I felt our minds touch as I strove to enter, but then my thoughts snapped back, pulled inexorably back into my own head. I was anchored within my own body... by the bond. My heart cried out in anguish as I realized I couldn’t do what was needed. I struggled inwardly, seeking to free myself from the restraint created by the bond. Pain shot through me as I sought to snap it by force and Penny stumbled and fell beside me. I was killing both of us.

  Despair washed over me and I gave up, then I heard my father trying to speak again. I held his head up and listened, but even with my ear close I couldn’t understand him. His eyes pierced me as he tried to speak. With a finger he traced a shape on the ground, but I failed to understand. He spoke again, but the only word I could make out was ‘chandelier’. That made no sense.

  “I can’t understand… what are you trying to say?” I replied with eyes too blurred to see.

  He pointed at James, who was reclining a few feet away, and mouthed the word ‘chandelier’ again. He seemed so urgent and I was desperate to understand him. “James! What does he mean... chandelier?”

  James stared a moment before answering, “I think he means the new chandelier in the great hall, back at Lancaster. He made it for me after your battle.” Things had been so chaotic back then I had hardly noticed. I had never known.

  Royce nodded at his words and pointed at my eyes, then back at James. A tear rolled down from his eye as he looked at me. “I think he wants you to see the chandelier Mort,” Penny said softly beside me.

  I nodded in agreement. “Where is Marcus?” I asked her. My only hope now was that his goddess would do what I could not, but time was running out.

  Dorian had come in and answered my question, “He’s in Lancaster Mordecai. He went yesterday, a child came down sick.”

  A black wave rolled over me, but I pushed it back. Despair would help no one. I examined the wounds again; I would have to do the best I could from the outside. I began pulling at the shaft of the arrow, trying to seal the damaged lung as the head came out. My father jerked at the pain and the head of the arrow cut deeper against his heart. I was killing him. I felt his heart beating faster, too fast, as it struggled to force blood through his body.

  Watching him struggle tore at my heart and I did the only thing left to me... I began damping the pain, suppressing the signals his nerves were sending. There were so many I couldn’t be sure of what I was doing, but his body began to relax. The heart slowed and his chest relaxed.

  “Royce?” I heard my mother’s voice over my shoulder. Looking back I saw her standing there, her face was calm but I could see fear in her eyes, the fear of losing the one person most important to her. It was a look that ravaged my soul, for I knew I could do nothing to prevent it.

  She sat down across from me and stroked the hair from his face. I saw their eyes meet, as they had a thousand times before, communicating feelings I had never fully understood. “It’s ok darling, I’ll be alright,” she told him. He tried to speak but his voice was gone. “Mordecai will take care of us, don’t worry. I know you love me. Relax, you need to rest.”

  The words unmade me and I began to weep like a child, hopeless and uncontrolled. The sorrow of a man who knows he can never go home again. My life was changing, and the safety and security my father had given me would soon be gone forever. In a crowd of friends and loved ones I felt more alone than ever.

  My father took a long time dying. He had been far stronger than I imagined, and his body struggled to breathe long after he lost consciousness. The pain of watching it was too great, and in the end I gently stilled his heart to speed his passing. Once it was done I sat staring blankly into space, numb and tired.

  After some time Penny led me to our rooms. Along the way people spoke to me, expressing their sympathies at my loss, but I barely heard them. At long last I fell into bed, sinking into a deep slumber. One filled with sorrow and unsaid words.

  Chapter 31

  The week that
followed was grey and tasteless. Marc returned the next morning and with the aid of his goddess healed the wounded that remained, including his own father. I avoided him for several days, my grief was too great and some part of me blamed him for his absence when my father needed him. It only served to increase my anger at the gods.

  A funeral was held and I spoke of my memories, but I could not remember afterward what I had said. It was as if the emptiness in my heart had eaten the memory of it. I returned to working on the iron bombs with a renewed vigor, driving myself as if exhaustion could defeat the demons that haunted me.

  Royce’s idea served me well. By linking the containment enchantment with a ward to absorb heat I was able to empower multiple pieces of iron with much less personal effort. I developed a routine and soon the only limit to how many I could produce was the time it took me to arrange the enchantment and the linkage. Usually I could manage fifteen or more in an hour.

  Angus came to find me a week after the funeral. He was having some issues with the dam. The one thing I was having the most difficulty with, was talking to other people, but the reality of our problems would not wait on my grief. “I need to talk to you about the foundation,” he told me.

  I was busy creating more iron bombs and Angus was irritating me. “If you need more men or materials talk to Joe. He’ll get you whatever you need,” I told him brusquely. Since our ill-fated escape from Albamarl our ranks had swelled by another two hundred men. We now had more than enough men for the dam project as well as the building of more temporary shelters for the winter. Food didn’t look like it would be a problem either; we had taken far more from the king’s ware-houses than we would need, far more than he had stolen from us.